


You and I

by orphan_account



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Eremin - Freeform, M/M, adorable gayness, eren x armin - Freeform, erermin, illness-related angst, jeanmarco
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-04
Updated: 2014-07-08
Packaged: 2018-02-03 10:06:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1740728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the beginning of another year, and Armin Arlert must overcome his own fears and the fears of his best friend Eren in order to make it through in the only way he knows how: staying as quiet as he can and trying to deny the fact that he's in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Opera and Muffins

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! I've been writing this for a while and I've recently acquired an AO3 account, so I've elected to publish the first installment here. It's going to hopefully be a compelling story, and I'm really looking forward to some feedback from the people on this site! 
> 
> If you're interested, I can be located on tumblr at deadlyfabulous.tumblr.com , where I post ramblings late at night and whine about time management while reblogging Eremin fanart.

It was with a significant amount of grumbling and a bit of bleary-eyed blinking that Armin Arlert rolled over in bed at the sound of an incessant beeping. He reached his arm out his bedside table and pressed the button on his alarm that blissfully rid his ears of the noise. He sat up and shook strands of blond hair from his face and tried vaguely to remember what the purpose of that day was. 

He was fairly certain that it was Monday. And, as he realized with a slight flutter, it was a school day. The beginning of the school year. 

Armin was not particularly attached to the idea of going to school. He never had been. He enjoyed it primarily for the work and the ability to exercise his mind, but social interaction was something he could do without. It sufficed to say that he wasn’t particularly motivated to meet anyone. He was perfectly content with the two friends he had known for years, and if not for their insistence, he most likely would have pursued an online study program. 

With a slight yawn, Armin stood up and proceeded to rifle through his closet. Most of what he owned looked the same. He had pullover sweaters in various pastel colors which were generally accompanied with collared shirts and either jeans or beige slacks. He selected a light green sweater and tossed it onto his bed. As he began to get dressed, he considered the circumstances surrounding this particular school year. Tenth grade was beginning, and he set himself firmly in front of two more years at the St. Maria High School. 

He brushed out his blond hair, still pondering just how awful this year would transpire to be. Armin seemed to be the perfect target for mockery by his peers, and as he smiled indifferently at his reflection, it wasn’t entirely difficult for him to see why. His hair was bobbed around his head in a way that appeared rather feminine, and his clothes weren’t particularly current or interesting. He frequently suffered belittlement in the hallways of his school for his appearance and his preoccupation with books. The occasional muttered “queer” or a trip in the halls was common as well. 

This was his primary rationale for not wishing to attend a public school. However, there was yet another negativity that doubled as a positive. This particular conundrum, Armin thought, smiling wistfully to himself as he hoisted his messenger bag over his shoulder, was Eren Jäger. Eren and his adopted sister Mikasa Ackerman had been with Armin since the middle of his tenure at primary school. They had come to Armin’s rescue during one of the frequent instances of mocking he endured even then. 

Since that singular instance, when Eren had angrily kicked away a group of bullying fourth graders away from small, crying Armin, Armin had viewed Eren as the bravest person he had ever known. At some point in his life, that admiration had manifested itself further. It was during his most recent year of high school that Armin had come to terms with what was going on in his own mind. Eren was his closest friend, his hero, and his entire existence seemed to surmise a very good amount of Armin’s reason for living. He was charming in a very loud way, he was attractive in piercing sort of way, and he protected Armin in a way that Armin himself could only describe as warrior-like. 

And thus, with thoughts clouding his mind, Armin proceeded out the front door of the townhouse he shared with his grandparents and stood outside to wait for the object of his frustration and adoration to pick him up for school. 

Armin sighed, considering the implications of yet another school year with Eren. Another year of sitting in the back of the classrooms next to him, listening to him talk loudly about the smug look on Jean Kirschstein’s face and make even louder wagers with Connie Springer over who could throw a spitball the farthest. In most other circumstances, Armin would never have spent time with someone like Eren. It wasn’t that Eren was an objectionable person, or that he didn’t have wonderful qualities that Armin adored, it was rather that Eren was far out of Armin’s league. 

This was at least Armin’s perspective on the matter. He was disinclined to account for Eren’s ceaseless protection. 

It was at that moment when the focus of Armin’s thoughts pulled up to the curb. Eren honked the horn of the car in his unnecessarily loud way. Armin scrambled to his feet and ran over to open the door, then stopped and tilted his head upon noticing that the passenger door was missing, and was instead substituted by a large black plastic bag that had been stretched over the opening. Armin climbed into the back seat instead. 

“Hey Armin,” Eren grinned at him, as though he hadn’t just driven up in something only vaguely street legal. 

“What’ve you done to your car, Eren?” Armin sighed in frustration. “I think I’ve told you not to do stupid things, and when you do, call me so I can fix them…” 

“It’s no big deal,” Eren chuckled. “I sold it.”

“You sold the door of your car,” Armin stated, with not so much surprise as exasperated solemnity. 

“Yea, I don’t need it,” he shrugged in response, turning up the radio. Armin was rather surprised to hear Met Opera Radio playing. 

“You listen to opera? On your own? Willingly?” Armin laughed, forgetting Eren’s perpetual stupidity for a moment. 

“No! Not really…” Eren replied defensively. “It was on here from yesterday when I drove you to the library and you insisted on listening to your...nerdy music.” 

“It’s not nerdy,” Armin protested, but laughed despite his best efforts to keep a straight face. “Aida is a classic…” 

“This stuff is kinda catchy, y’know, I was listening to it yesterday and there was this one song playing where the main guy sounded Italian...I think and anyway I kept trying to sing along but I had no idea what he was saying. Something that sounded like turtle door,” he shrugged. 

Armin laughed again, his nose turning red. 

“What?” Eren said, grinning and turning to look at him. 

“You…” Armin choked slightly on laughter. “You...the song is ‘Toreador’, you dolt…” 

“Well I didn’t know!” Eren said, still on the defensive. “I don’t speak whatever language that’s in.” 

“I suppose I can excuse you, then,” Armin smiled slightly. “Hey, do you think we’ll have any classes together?” 

“Eh,” Eren shrugged. “Aren’t you in all those advanced courses? I won’t be in there…” 

“You’re too hard on yourself. You could take those classes if you applied yourself a little more,” Armin frowned. 

“Yea, maybe…” Eren frowned. They pulled up to the school parking lot. Eren shut off the car and sighed, leaning his head back. 

“What’s wrong?” Armin asked, turning to him with widened eyes. 

“Nothing, just...another year here, that’s all,” Eren ran his hand over his head. 

“Yea, I know,” Armin laughed nervously. “At least I’ve got you, though. God, otherwise I’d probably be missing limbs.” 

“Armin, I love you like crazy, but you have absolutely no self esteem,” Eren sighed in frustration. 

Armin’s heart twung. Eren loved him. Platonically, for certain, but he loved him. Armin was fairly certain that his entire face had turned red. 

“I’m serious, you need to start standing up for yourself, because I might not always be around here to stand up for you,” Eren turned to him and frowned. Armin felt his heart sink. 

“What do you mean, you won’t always be here?” Armin asked, struggling to keep the panic out of his voice. 

“Armin...I didn’t want to tell you this yet, but...well, shit. You’re my best friend, so look. I don’t know yet for certain, but...my doctor thinks I may have a heart condition,” Eren sighed and turned away. “As I said...nothing is for certain yet, but apparently it runs in my family and I’ve had some symptoms. Apparently I have something else to thank my father for besides leaving me five years ago…”

“Eren…” Armin whispered and stretched out his hand to touch his best friend’s shoulder. 

“Don’t worry about me, Armin. Just...don’t be so afraid anymore,” Eren looked him in the eyes and smiled weakly. 

“I’m not afraid. I’ll never be afraid when you’re with me. And I know you’re not going to let something as small as a heart problem take you down,” Armin narrowed his eyes. “Okay?” 

Eren sighed, then nodded. 

“Okay.” 

::::::::::::::::

The day went on with a sufficient amount of awkwardness. Armin was suffering through the internal struggle he faced daily over his feelings for Eren, but now it was coupled with intense stress from Eren’s potentially existent heart condition. He received his class schedule from the front office and spent the rest of the day struggling to locate his new classrooms. He noted with increasing trepidation that he had two classes with Eren: physical education and public speaking. Unfortunately, these were the two classes in which Armin was least likely to perform up to his other standards. Armin personally felt that he would be best suited for a solitary career, most likely in something like literature. 

He felt that his aspirations in life would go no further than to sit alone in a study (alone was a key point here. He had convinced himself thoroughly that after graduation, he would commit himself to an Eren-less life, regardless of how much it would pain him) writing novels about the plight of government or some other insufferably collegiate topic. With this in mind, running a mile in under ten minutes or delivering a speech in front of his peers was the last thing he wanted to exert energy into doing. 

His current class, advanced placement calculus, was interesting to say the least. The teacher, Ms. Hange Zoë, seemed to be under the impression that nothing could be more exciting than math. She was excessively loud and had already thrown her binder at Jean Kirschtein for whispering to Marco Bodt. Jean was currently nursing the swelling area under his eye as Ms. Zoë cleared her throat. 

“I assume you want these, hmm?” she said, grinning widely and waving a stack of syllabi in her right hand. When she was greeted with silence, she continued speaking. “Now, most teachers just hand these out, but I personally like to start the year off with a bit of good-natured competition. Last I checked, due to the lack of interest in math at this school, there were twelve of you. I have eleven syllabi, whoops,” she shrugged unapologetically and stood up on her desk. Armin blanched as he realized the implications of her statement. Physical confrontation was the last thing he wanted in what was supposed to be a purely academic class. 

Ms. Zoë tossed the syllabi into the air and Armin flinched as one of the papers swished by his head, but was able to grab it off the floor before anyone else leapt on it. Krista Lenz was not so lucky, and let out a small shriek as Reiner Braun lunged over her desk to grab a syllabus in midair. Ms. Zoë let out a hysteric laugh and sat down on her desk to watch as Krista managed to snatch up the last paper from the floor, leaving Marco Bodt without a syllabus. 

“You,” Ms. Zoë said, smiling and adjusting her glasses while looking at a rather terrified Marco. “...are the weak link here.” She waved her hands apologetically at Marco’s crestfallen, freckled expression. “No, no, I don’t necessarily mean it in a bad way. I can’t see your motivation for not fighting someone over this. Maybe you had a reason. Maybe you wanted to make sure someone else got out with one. I like you, so I’m going to give you this.” She leaned over to her desk drawer and pulled out a twelfth syllabus as the sound of pained groans echoed from the other students, namely Reiner, who had smacked his head on the floor after falling off Krista’s desk. 

“Th-thanks…” Marco smiled nervously, taking the syllabus. 

“No problem, freckles,” Ms. Zoë clapped her hands and turned to the class. “Now. I like this because it gives me a chance to understand you people. Math is interesting. It’s logical and you have to know how to approach it. You cannot fight it,” she raised her eyebrows at Reiner. “You cannot be afraid of it.” She glanced at Krista. “You can’t always expect people to hand you the way out.” She looked at Marco. “And you can’t expect to get lucky every time.” She gazed rather knowingly at Armin, who sank slightly in his desk. He hadn’t expected his math teacher to be quite so perceptive. 

The class ended on that note (and several minutes early), with Armin hurrying out awkwardly. It was only his third class of the day and he had already undergone something of a psychological evaluation. He wanted to talk to Eren about the eccentricities of Ms. Zoë, but at the same time shied away from the idea. He didn’t want to become any closer to Eren. Armin realized that it may be selfish, as he was heavily concerned with rejection at a time when Eren’s life could be in danger, but he didn’t know how else to deal with his feelings. 

“Armin, are you all right?” 

Armin’s head shot up in alarm as he felt a pair of hands on his shoulders. Eren’s green eyes stared back at him in concern. 

“Are you crying?” Eren asked rather quietly, then laughed nervously. “Don’t tell me advanced math is already that bad…” 

“No, no…” Armin replied distractedly, then touched his face and jumped slightly in alarm. He was crying…

“Armin, come on,” Eren tilted his head in the direction of the cafeteria and he began to walk away. Armin followed hesitantly, fully aware of how this was going to go. He was going to sit down. Eren was going to do something disgustingly considerate and get him some sort of muffin or sub-par cafeteria food, then Armin would feel incredibly guilty and start to spill everything he was struggling to keep inside. 

He sighed and followed Eren. 

::::::::::::::::

“So. You’ve got some problems, Armin,” Eren narrowed his eyes. 

“Stop doing that, your face is practically stuck like that already,” Armin said, pulling a chunk off the blueberry cafeteria muffin Eren had bought him. Eren had dragged him into the crowded cafeteria for their fifteen minute break before the next class for a “talk”. Just as he had predicted, Eren was being thoughtful and incredibly attractive, if one was able to look past his perpetually angry facial expression, which Armin always was. 

“Don’t avoid the question. I’m sorry I told you about the...thing. I should’ve known it would stress you out. Mikasa’s been the same way. I guess it’s harder to tell with her, ‘cause she doesn’t talk too much, but she’s worried too,” Eren sighed and stretched his arms over his head. 

“No...it’s fine. I mean, what’s the worst that could happen?” Armin laughed nervously. “You take some medication...if you even have a problem...and you’ll be fine, right?”

Eren looked down and made an awkwardly sad sound to himself. 

“Right…” 

“Yea, see? It’s fine. You’re going to be okay. You have to be. I’m worried about you, of course, but...you’ll be fine.”

“Armin, there’s something you’re not telling me.” 

“No there isn’t,” Armin replied defiantly, taking a bite of muffin. 

“I’m not an idiot, I’ve known you for what, seven, eight years? You’re all distant and weird,” Eren frowned again. 

Armin groaned. 

“Stop…” he said, pulling the rest of the top off his muffin and tossing the bottom into the trash can. 

“Why do you only eat the tops of muffins?” Eren asked, still frowning. “That’s like...seventy-five cents there.” 

“The top is the part with all the crumbly sugar stuff,” Armin smiled slightly. “The bottom is just...boring cake. Without icing.”

Eren shrugged. 

“You’re weird. So what’s going on? Math hasn’t made you cry since fifth grade when Annie Leonhart stuck a pencil in your hand,” Eren asked, raising his eyebrows. 

Armin winced. 

“Don’t bring that up, I still have a lead spot in my palm.” 

“Sorry. Seriously though, what is it?” Eren waved his hand at Armin, who let out a groan of discontent. 

“I really don’t want to talk about this, Eren…” Armin flopped his head down on the table. He could feel his nose starting to tingle and his eyes were beginning to puff up. No...he didn’t want this. He didn’t want to start crying. He wouldn’t. He put his hands on top of his head in frustration. 

“We’re going to talk about this because I’m worried about you. You’re important to me…” Eren said rather more quietly than normal. 

Armin lifted his head up, feeling his eyes watering slightly. 

“Well...you’re important to me, too,” he said softly. “Eren, I--”

“What? What is it?” Eren asked quickly, and Armin noticed that his eyes were beginning to narrow slightly. 

“Don’t hate me for this, but...I like you. I like you a lot, but you’re my best friend in the world, and that’s something that…well, it’s not something that works, is it?” Armin said quietly, focusing intensely on a muffin crumb that had landed on the table. 

The silence dragged on for several seconds, during which Armin held back tears with all the intensity he could muster. 

“Armin,” Eren said in a quiet, controlled voice. 

“What?” Armin asked, trusting himself to look up. 

Eren was…smiling. This was something Armin had neither considered nor anticipated. 

“I think you’re wrong. That’s...something that could work,” he said, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair, a wide grin spreading over his face.


	2. Surprise and an Uncreative Author

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dorks do dorky things Eren's car is a piece of shit

“W-what?” Armin asked, his heart feeling as though it were going to beat its way out of his chest. He was approximately seventy-five percent certain he had just briefly hallucinated the last twenty seconds of his conversation with Eren. Eren didn’t like him in that way...it was impossible. No. This couldn’t possibly be happening.

“Armin. I like you,” Eren said, looking at Armin rather imploringly. “Are you okay? You look a little...red.” He chuckled slightly. 

Armin realized he was blushing furiously and ducked his head down. Eren liked him. For some strange, incomprehensible reason, Eren liked him. Armin realized at that instant that he was going to have to reevaluate every other guess he had made about anything else in his life. Now that he had been so wrong about Eren’s reaction, perhaps anything was possible. Perhaps--

At that moment, the buzzer on the cafeteria ceiling went off. Armin jumped in his seat and shot his head up to see Eren smiling widely at him. Eren was such an idiot...and adorable, wonderful idiot, and Armin loved him. 

“I guess...um...it’s probably time to go now, huh?” Armin laughed nervously. 

“Yeah,” Eren said, chuckling in response, running a hand through his hair. “Don’t we have the same class next? Public speaking or something like that?” 

Armin let out a small noise of acknowledgement that sounded like a mouse being caught off guard. He pulled his schedule out of his pocket and unfolded it, scanning the sheet of paper without really being able to comprehend what it said. 

“Yes, yes we do,” Armin smiled happily, then noticed the teacher’s name next to it. Ms. Hange Zoë, once again. Armin grimaced slightly. It wasn’t necessarily that Ms. Zoë was unpleasant, but rather that she scared him just a bit. She had an interesting way of looking through those rectangular glasses that made him certain he couldn’t hide anything. It seemed she knew what everyone was thinking, all the time. 

“This’ll be great! Debating Kirschtein is exactly what I need! When do you think we actually get to argue with people?” Eren asked, his eyes widening in excitement as rushed down the hall with Armin trailing after him excitedly. 

“You know, it’s not just about arguing,” Armin said, with the intent of sounding rather chastising. It ended up coming out with a bit more amusement than he had wished. 

“Yeah, yeah, it’s about logic...I’m still going to win,” Eren grinned. 

With that, Eren swung open the door to Ms. Zoë’s classroom.  
“After you, my lady,” he said, his smile still obnoxiously wide. Armin smacked his arm in mild annoyance, but couldn’t help laughing. 

“I take mild offense,” he said, smiling. “But thank you.” 

Armin sat near the back of the classroom, not exactly inclined to sit within range of whatever Ms. Zoë intended to throw at this class. He looked around the room and noted that there was a surprising number of lower class students. Sasha Braus was not exactly a year behind him, they were the same age. Sasha had been held back a year some grades back, and Connie Springer, in an attempt to win her over, had purposefully flunked the year after so the two could be together. 

It was not the most intelligent of decisions, but Armin had to admit that there was something romantic about it, if only in a juvenile way. Armin would never have considered failing so that Eren could catch up to him. Academic success was one of the only things he was certain he could excel at. 

He was brought out of his brief internal narrative by Ms. Zoë knocking sharply on her desk. 

“Welcome, welcome, eh?” she said cheerily, glancing around the room. “It’s fourth period and honestly I’m getting a little tired of introducing myself. I’m Hange Zoë and I don’t appreciate formality. Some of you already know me. Math is a lot like debates. It’s a logical forum with a set way to win. At any rate, that’s why I teach both classes.” 

She clapped her hands. 

“Now get up and introduce yourselves!” she said, waving her hand. “Hop to it or I’ll start calling names.” 

Armin turned to Eren as his classmates began standing up and awkwardly blabbering about their lives. Eren was still smiling at him, and Armin felt his heart crack just a bit. 

“So…” Eren said, laughing rather awkwardly. “You’re gay...and I guess I am too.” 

“Yes...Eren…?” Armin said rather nervously. 

“Yeah?” 

“What does this mean? What are we, now?” Armin asked, internally groaning as he felt his face flush. 

“I don’t know, actually…honestly, Armin, we can be whatever you want us to be. I do know, though, that I--” 

With that, Eren was promptly interrupted by Ms. Zoë calling his name. Armin watched as Eren sighed and walked up in front of the class. He wasn’t listening particularly attentively to the words leaving Eren’s mouth, but rather, he was distracted by the way the light reflected so very attractively off Eren’s hair. In fact, he was drawn so far away from what was actually happening in class that he didn’t notice when the bell signaling the end of class rang and Eren was next to him again. 

“Hey, you ready to go?” 

Armin jumped slightly. He had lost himself in his thoughts for a short expanse of time. Now Eren was again sitting next to him and smiling. 

“Y’know, you’re kind of cute when you’re out of it,” Eren grinned widely and Armin determinedly tried not to blush, but failed miserably. 

“You dork,” he mumbled, his face red. 

The rest of the day progressed with nothing less than mutual awkwardness that resolved itself in the manner of playful shoves back and forth which resulted in clumsy embraces. The two were ludicrous by any standards, and their entire relationship seemed to revolve around wanting to leap onto the other but holding back for fear of seeming awkward. By the time the final bell of the day rang, the two awkwardly grasped hands and walked back to Eren’s less than perfect car to continue their far more than perfect day.


	3. Some Tears and the Telephone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please don't send a horde of torch wielding villagers after me...I'm sorry.

“You know, there’s something about this that seems almost surreal,” Eren remarked. He was driving Armin home from school, the wind whistling through the space left by his conspicuously absent car door. The black plastic bag wasn’t exactly an adequate substitute, and the duct tape holding it in place was beginning to fray away. 

“Yes, it’s surreal that you haven’t been pulled over for that yet,” Armin gestured at the opening, tsking slightly. “What’d you need money for so badly that you had to sell a car door?”

Eren shrugged nonchalantly. 

“Food, clothes. I don’t know what my new foster parents’ll be like, so I figure I’d better stock up on all the necessary stuff. Though I guess they can’t be that bad, what with taking in a liability like me,” he said, frowning. 

“When were you supposed to get the results back from the doctor?” Armin asked quietly, recalling Eren’s announcement from earlier in the day. 

“It should be either today or tomorrow. I might call in early and see if they’ve got anything yet,” Eren sighed. 

“If you hear anything, you’ll call me, right?” Armin inquired, glancing at Eren, whose eyebrows seemed to have settled in a determined line over his eyes, as though he was struggling to suppress something. 

“Yes, yes I will...I promise,” Eren said rather tightly. Evidently he was far less than ready to hear the condition his heart was in. 

“When do you and Mikasa get to leave the orphanage?” Armin asked, struggling to keep his tone lighthearted so he could veer away from touchy subjects like medical conditions. 

“Tonight, hopefully. The head told me that we’re getting picked up around six. I’ll give you my new address tomorrow so you can visit,” Eren added quickly, “If you want to, that is.” 

“Of course I want to! I mean, this is the first time you’ve had an actual house,” Armin smiled. “Have you met your new foster parents yet? Do they let you meet them…?”

“Mikasa’s met both of them. I’ve met one. Short. Seems a bit angry, not the type to adopt teenagers. Bit of a tosser, really. Not quite sure how I feel about him,” Eren mused.

“Wait...why didn’t we pick Mikasa up?” Armin said, glancing in the backseat of the car rather panicked. 

“Oh, she runs home. She likes to get in a pre-workout warm-up before she does her weight training…” Eren laughed, some of his previous stress melting away. “She’s ridiculously ripped.”

“Isn’t it...quite a ways to run?” Armin asked hesitantly. He loved Mikasa but sometimes he worried that she was over exerting herself. 

“Nah, it’s just a light 15k, according to her,” Eren shrugged. “Usually I can see her in the rear view mirror when we’re at stop signs. The woman is a powerhouse. I keep telling her to join the wrestling team but she thinks she’ll have too much school stuff going on...but that’s balls. You’re supposed to follow your dreams, right?” 

“That’s what I’m trying to do, anyway,” Armin sighed, looking at Eren. Eren. He was sitting there with Eren. Whom he was currently...dating? What exactly were they? Armin was gradually becoming more nervous about this, and made himself a mental note to ask Eren later. At a better time. A time when they weren’t just about to reach Armin’s house. And perhaps also a time when Eren was no longer waiting for potentially life-changing medical news. Yes. that would be best. 

“Same,” Eren said rather quietly, pulling over at the curb in front of Armin’s grandfather’s townhouse. “Well, we’re here. So...Armin...be happy, okay?” 

Armin sat rather surprised, poised to climb out the back door of the car. 

“I will. Just...make sure you do that, too, and...be happy too, because...right…” Armin stuttered nervously, then stopped abruptly as Eren leaned over and kissed his cheek gently. He felt himself flush. Eren pulled back slowly and smiled, then looked away, his face slightly red. 

“Bye,” Eren said quickly as Armin, in a slight daze, clambered out of the car. He felt ridiculously happy. Eren liked him. For now, he was certain of that and he honestly didn’t need anything else. 

:::::::::::::::::::::::

It was at around nine o’clock at night when Armin’s cell phone rang from downstairs. He had been asleep, but was roused awake by the shrill ringing. He clambered out of bed and rubbed his eyes, glancing around blearily as he felt his way down the stairs. His grandfather was still up, and the television was blaring from the other upstairs bedroom. Armin tripped slightly on his way into the kitchen, catching himself on the counter. He fumbled around for his phone before answering it. 

“Hello?” he mumbled, hearing a great deal of crashing and yelling in the background. 

“Hi Armin! Sorry, I know you usually try to get to bed at like eight thirty, but I wanted to call you,” Eren said rather loudly, over the sound of what sounded like battle cries. 

“What’s that noise coming from…” Armin yawned, still not quite as alert as he’d like to be. 

“It’s nothing, just Mikasa sparring with our new foster dad. Pretty sure I’m the only one in the house without a six pack. You should come over sometime,” Eren said, and Armin could almost hear him smiling, the happiness was that evident. “You already know my foster mom.”

“Who is it?” Armin asked, his curiosity piquing. 

“Ms. Hange. It was kind of weird when I first saw her, but she’s pretty cool, actually. Only downside is we don’t really have a kitchen, she’s taken that over to cut up frogs and write math formulas on the walls. We have a barbecue, though. That works. And there’s a mini fridge in...what do you call a room with nothing but punching bags in it?” Eren inquired excitedly. 

“Fitness room? Anger management room?” Armin suggested, laughing. 

“Let’s go with fitness. Anyway, there’s a mini fridge in there but it doesn’t have anything but Gatorade. They’re a weird couple. Mostly nice,though. Levi-- that’s Hange’s husband, Levi-- he’s pretty scary, but he’s also short so you get over it. He seems alright. Not sure if Mikasa likes him or not. She’s fighting him, but that could mean anything,” Eren chuckled. 

“You sound happy, that’s a nice development,” Armin smiled and fiddled absently with the end of his hair, trying to stifle a yawn. He had half-decided not to ask about the doctor’s results just because Eren sounded so content when Eren spoke again in a slightly lower tone of voice. 

“I ended up calling in for the results earlier today…” he said rather hesitantly. Armin was quiet for a few seconds, allowing him time to continue. “Something like...hyper...cardio...something? I wrote it down somewhere, maybe you can elaborate on it...” The sound of Eren fumbling around made the speaker of Armin’s phone crackle. 

Armin was breathing rather more heavily than normal. He didn’t want anything to happen to Eren. Hopefully, based on Eren’s rather casual tone, this wasn’t anything he should be worried about. 

“Hypertrophic cardiomyopathy,” Eren informed him, with some degree of satisfaction at having located the paper. “What is that, exactly? They gave me some medication but they didn’t make it sound too serious. It’s not, is it?”

“It’s a heart muscle abnormality. An enlargement. Have you experienced any breathing difficulty or asthma-like symptoms? Palpitations? Lightheadedness? Blackouts?” Armin said quickly, beginning to experience some breathing difficulties of his own. He was worried. Too worried. This was a condition that could potentially go either way, but a big part of it was whether or not Eren was willing to take it down a notch. Too much physical exertion could be his worst enemy. 

“Nah, none of that...d’you think it’s anything to worry about?” Eren asked casually. Armin groaned. He wished he could smack Eren through the phone. 

“Yes! Eren...you need to be careful. Really careful. You know that, right? Do you have a family history of cardiac failure? Unexplained death? Any kind of heart disease?” Armin rattled off everything he could think of. He was fairly certain that he was going to have to break into a doctor’s office and steal Eren’s complete medical history. “You said you’ve never had asthma, right? Right, Eren?” He was panicking now. Eren’s casual attitude wasn’t going to do him any favors. 

“No, no asthma, not even once. Armin, are you okay?” Eren asked, worry sinking through his voice. “You sound a little...stressed…”

“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, Eren. It’s just...you should really research this disorder, because…” Armin choked slightly and became instantly horrified with himself. He wasn’t weak. He was not going to cry. “It highly increases your chance of premature death. It’s the number one cause of death in young athletes. You’ve got to be careful, Eren, because...because I don’t want to lose you…”

There was silence on the other line for several seconds. 

“Shit...you’d think maybe they’d have told me that kind of thing…sorry I was a little bit...I don't know. Casual. I didn't want you to be upset," Eren replied quietly. "I didn't want you to think I'm broken..." 

Armin sighed, leaning against the kitchen counter, his hand shaking slightly around the phone. 

"You're not broken...don't be ridiculous. Just be careful. Take care of yourself, won't you?" He said weakly, pulling at the edge of his pajama shirt. 

"I think I can do that..." Eren said, his voice still soft. "You don't need to worry, you know." 

"I can't help it..." Armin let a yawn slip through. "You're too important not to worry about." 

"Nah, I'm nothing special," Eren chuckled slightly, then cleared his throat. "I should go now, I've kept you up for too long. Goodnight, Armin." 

"Night, Eren. Tell Mikasa I said hi," Armin said quietly as he hung up. He glanced around the kitchen. It was late...later than he was usually up. The lack of sound was almost painful. He wished that he could somehow guarantee Eren's safety by reminding him what to do, what not to do, but when he faced the real truth, there was nothing he could do. Either the HCM wouldn't be too severe and Eren would be able to live out his life, or...he'd be here one day and gone the next. Medication would help, though. Medication always helped, Armin reassured himself uncertainly. 

He told himself, as he walked up the stairs, that Eren would be fine. As long as he didn't do anything too physically taxing or gain a significant amount of weight, everything would be fine. It would be fine. He let this thought wash over his mind as he carefully tried to tuck his fears away into the recesses of his head. He ignored the ache in his chest until he had reached his room, shut the door quietly, and laid on his bed. 

Armin clutched his pillow close to his chest and curled up into the fetal position. Fine. Eren was going to be fine. Fine fine fine fine, he told himself stubbornly. Tears began to leak from the corners of his eyes as a thought managed to flash across his mind. 

What if he's not...

What then?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *dramatic music*   
> Here have some angst to liven up your day.   
> Imsosorry.


End file.
